Why Don't They Know? (Or Rather, Why Won't They Listen?)
I wake and instantly feel the dampness around my legs. It's uncomfortable, making me squirm and whimper. One of the blurry faces who are always bobbing around me pauses long enough to glance down at me, "I know, My Lady Princess. I know you're hungry. It's been four hours since you've eaten. Don't worry; we'll get Susanna just as quick as we can."
"I'm not hungry," I protest, "I'm sore. I'm damp and sore and my tummy hurts. I don't want to eat. I don't want to eat."
I don't get an answer, but I do get picked up, and as she picks me up, the woman exclaims, "Good grief, Princess, you're sopping wet! No wonder you're crying. Well, let's get that sorted before you go to Susanna for some lunch, shall we?"
Carrying me across the room, she lays me down and quickly changes the cloths around my lower legs, making me nice and dry. I relax into the soft cloth and smile briefly, though my tummy still hurts.
But the woman doesn't seem to be able to tell that. She beams down at me, "There, that's better, isn't it? Now, off you go to Susanna and get some lunch, hmm?"
I whimper. The idea of food...on my tummy...it seems too much. I resolve not to eat, but when I am actually presented with the mass of soft warm flesh, smelling so temptingly of milk, I can't help myself. I gulp greedily, over and over and just as I am starting to feel full, something in my tummy seems to break and pour out into the cloths around my legs.
It startles me and I break away from the flow of milk, giving a shriek.
"What is it, lovely? You can't be full yet. Come on, try and have some more," There is a soft murmur in my ear, I am guided back to the milk and realise that the voice is right, my tummy does have more room in it now.
Once I am full, however, there is nothing to distract me from how uncomfortable my cloths are. I wiggle, trying to get comfortable but wail when I realise it isn't possible.
"Oh dear, someone's got wind, haven't they?" Susanna murmurs, scooping me up and laying me across her shoulder. In seconds, she feels how swollen the cloths around my legs are.
"Goodness, someone's in a mess, aren't they?" she clucks, rubbing my back.
"I just want to be clean!" I cry, but she ignores me, continuing to rub my back until I can't help but burp. Only then does she hand me over to one of the other girls in the room.
"Mary. The Princess has soiled herself. Change her, would you?"
"But she was changed not half an hour ago! She can't need changing yet!" Mary protests.
"Yes I do!" I scream and Susanna agrees, "She most certainly does. Do it or we'll have no peace for hours."
Reluctantly, Mary carries me over to the mat and changes me.
Once I am dry and clean, the next hour or so is peaceful enough, but then I suddenly realise I am tired out. Tired out from all the people constantly fussing around me and wanting to make me happy. All I want is to be put in my crib and left alone for a bit so I can recharge my batteries and process everything I'm experiencing, everything that still seems so new.
Unfortunately, my slightest whimper brings a bevy of clucking hens down on my head.
"Oh, what is it, Princess? Are you bored, is that it?" one of them takes me in her arms and bounces me lightly in her hold.
"No. I want my crib," I explain, but she doesn't seem to understand. She bounces me again, pulling a funny face at me, which I think is supposed to make me giggle. But I don't want to giggle. I'm tired. I want a rest.
"I'm tired!" I whine, "Put me down!"
"Martha, stop it. You're scaring her!"
"No I'm not. She loves my faces, don't you, precious?"
"Put me down! Please!"
"I'm getting Margery. She probably needs changing again. You know how her bowels react when she's had a big lunch. Look how screwed up her face is. She's straining to pass gas or a stool or something."
"I'M TIRED, Silly! PUT ME DOWN!"
Oh, why don't they just listen? Why don't they know what to do? I'm telling them loud and clear, but they're not listening. They think they know best. They don't! They don't! They DON'T!
I wriggle desperately, trying to get away from the girl holding me, but she only tightens her grip, "Oh no, don't do that, Princess. We wouldn't want you falling to the floor, now, would we?" she laughs, patting my back. "Don't worry, you'll be nice and changed soon enough. Emma's just gone to find Margery."
A few seconds later, I hear a "Here she is, look," and then I am swooping through the air to a different pair of arms; another pair that tries to bounce me up and down and soothe me.
"Well, you don't feel wet or dirty, but I suppose it can't hurt to give it a try. Come on then."
Margery carries me across the room again and puts me down. For a split-second, I think she's understood, think I can relax, but then she starts to unpin the cloths around my legs again.
"NO! Leave me alone. LEAVE ME ALONE!"
I kick out at Margery and she blinks, "Oooh, someone's grouchy, aren't they? That's not very nice, my Lady. I'm only trying to make you comfortable."
"Then put me in my crib and leave me alone!"
But now my legs are cold, and I can only wail in an exhausted protest until Margery picks me up and swaddles me in a blanket. She stands, rocking me, for a minute, humming softly. I am just beginning to give up and try to drift off to sleep anyway, despite the fact that I would rather be in my crib, when she has another one of her 'bright' ideas.
"I know. You've probably worked up quite a hunger with all that crying, haven't you? What do you say we give you over to Susanna and see if you can have a little snack, hmm?"
"NO! I'M TIRED! PUT ME DOWN!" I roar in frustration. Will they never learn to listen?
Apparently not, for I am promptly handed over to Susanna, who spends the next half an hour, at least, alternating between murmuring a litany that is supposed to be comforting and trying to encourage me to eat some more, as if I hadn't already eaten enough to make me ill at the last feeding.
By the time Lady Bryan finds us, I am furious. All I want is to be put down, as I desperately try to make clear to people, "I'M TIRED! PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN!" yet they are trying to force feed me.
Small wonder then, that I am arching my back and refusing to let Susanna turn my head to her breast; that I am thrashing in her arms and twisting my head away from the nipple, purple in the face.
Lady Bryan, as usual, seems to understand at least a little better than the others. She takes me out of Susanna's arms and paces the room with me, but talks to the others rather than trying to calm me particularly. In return, I lower the volume of my demands, but keep insisting on what I want. Even for them, this is particularly slow.
"Put me down, put me down, put me down!"
It is only the news that the King is coming that finally grants me my wish, as Lady Bryan almost throws me into another woman's arms and runs out of the room. The other woman hustles me into my crib, hastily humming a lullaby as she pulls the blankets up around me.
I whimper for a few seconds, startled by the sudden flurry of activity, but, surprisingly, I am not picked up again. I sigh with relief – at last, they have understood what I really want instead of fussing unnecessarily – and let my eyes fall shut.